


nothing human is strange to me

by GabsHardy



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabsHardy/pseuds/GabsHardy
Summary: Things Patty comes to learn she didn't know Holtzmann could do.(Holtz and Patty friendship, with sliiiight background Holtz/Erin)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know about you, but I could use some happy after the last week. I lovelove looove Kate and Leslie's friendship IRL, and the interaction between their characters in the movie, so I thought a bit of friendship focused fic would be soothing. Abby and Erin appear only briefly.

Patty’s on her way out, planning to go home and get dressed up before meeting a man for drinks later that evening, when she hears something in the kitchen. She pauses, wary; Abby’s gone for the day, Erin’s out of town for a conference… but she’s rarely seen Holtz in there. It’s late (by her standards; no one really knew what kind of schedule Holtzmann actually kept) and she heads for the kitchen cautiously.

It’s a great surprise to her when she sees that Holtzmann is, in fact, cooking. And not just warming up some kind of leftovers or takeout; she’s actually cooking real food. Salmon, vegetables, spices, and broths are all visible on the counter. Patty’s not sure why this is so surprising, just that it is.

“Holtzy?” The engineer jumps, and Patty’s glad she’s not holding a knife at the moment.

“Patty cakes! You startled me. I thought you were already gone. What’s up?”

“I didn’t know you cooked.”

“Oh, that. Yeah. Well kept secret.” Holtz grins as she drops a handful of cherry tomatoes into a pot on the stove.

“How have I known you for a year and never seen this?” Patty wonders.

“I don’t cook here all that often,” Holtz shrugs. “Mostly at Erin’s apartment, and mostly on weekends.”

“What are you making?” Patty finally moves further into the kitchen, dropping her bag on a counter and sliding into a seat. She briefly wonders if her presence will make the other woman uncomfortable, if this really is some kind of secret. But when Holtz answers the question, her concerns are banished.

“Eh, garlic lemon salmon and tomato basil soup. I’ve got an extra salmon filet if you care to join me for dinner.” Holtz holds up the other fish before seemingly remembering something. “Ooh, you’ve got that date tonight don’t you? With that dude from the bank bust last week?”

“Nah, baby, had to reschedule. I’d love to taste test your cooking if you’re sure it’s no problem.” Holtz eyes her suspiciously for a long moment.

“You had to reschedule or he did?” Patty just smiles, and Holtz rolls her eyes. “You better not be cancelling dates with perfectly decent seeming guys on my behalf, Pats. You know I’m just gonna end up back in the lab in an hour anyway.”

“Honey, if he’s that put off by one cancellation, he ain’t worth a second shot anyway.” Holtz tips the salmon towards her in what Patty takes as agreement, so she pulls out her cell phone and shoots off a quick text. She then watches as Holtz efficiently prepares the second salmon before sliding both into the oven and returning her attention to the boiling pot on the stove. Only then does Patty realize she doesn’t have any recipe cards out anywhere.

“Doing this from memory?” she questions.

“Salmon and soup are old standbys for me. Granted, what goes into each changes each time, but the basics stay the same.”

“How long have you been cooking?”

“Only about half an hour,” Holtz replies cheekily. She glances up to see the droll look Patty is giving her, and her grin broadens. “All right… since college, really. Dr. Gorin was not about to let me subsist on cereal and Pringles, so she insisted on teaching me basics like pasta, casseroles, that kinda stuff. It didn’t take long before I realized I actually enjoyed it, and I started teaching myself things more complicated than she ever cared to make. She was always happy to eat whatever I came up with and let me know if it worked or not, and by the time I graduated, stuff I cooked almost always got a passing grade from her.” Her smile holds a hint of pride as she says this. “Well, except the stuff with quinoa. That woman will not get on board with quinoa.” Patty finds herself grinning broadly, feeling oddly touched to have been granted such a look into Holtzmann’s past.

“If you like it so much, how come you don’t do it more often?”

“There are things I enjoy more. The lab, busting, being with Erin, hanging out with you guys - those all make me happier now than being alone in a kitchen.” With a shrug, Holtz produces an immersion blender, and Patty frowns in concern.

“When did we get that?”

“Would you be worried if I said I built it?”

“...yes. I don’t tend to think of your labwork, while brilliant, as being safe for human consumption.” Holtz laughs delightedly.

“Probably right. This is how I know no one else really cooks here either: I’ve had this here, in that same drawer, for about 4 months now, and it’s always in the same spot I left it last.”

“Full of surprises, Holtzy.” She watches as the cook runs the immersion blender through the pot, before tasting the result and adding a few more spices. After checking the timer for the salmon, Holtz turns back to Patty.

“You know, cooking really isn’t that different from engineering.”

“Does that mean I should expect a portion of the kitchen to explode?” Patty questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah, that only happened the one time. I assure you, I haven’t attempted Bananas Foster since then. No, I mean on a more basic level. Both of them involve taking various other things and finding a way to put them all together into a new, cohesive whole.”

“That’s damn near poetic, Holtzy.”

“Also, yes, both involve fire.”

“There it is.” Holtz shoots her another grin, borderline maniacal, before she begins plating the salmon and handing over the soup. While she does that, Patty grabs them each a beer from the fridge, popping the tops off before returning to her seat. Holtzmann is studiously not watching her as Patty takes her first bite of salmon, so she misses the slight widening of her eyes.

“Damn, Holtzy!” The blonde looks pleased with the response. Patty tries the soup next, savoring it for a moment before a thought occurs to her. “Please tell me you’re not holding out on Abby.”

“Oh, certainly not. She’s counting the days until Thanksgiving because it means I’ll bring her butternut squash soup. It’s our longest standing holiday tradition.”

“Well, baby girl, you better make enough for me.”

“Sure thing, sugar bear.” Patty shakes her head at the ridiculous nickname. The rest of the meal is filled with Holtzmann’s rambling thoughts on why butternut is “King Squash of Squash Mountain,” as well as Patty’s disagreement in favor of spaghetti squash. When Holtz stands and begins clearing dishes, Patty gently pushes her back to her seat.

“You cooked, I’ll clean.”

“Ok, but only if you put my immersion blender back right where it belongs.”

“I think I can manage,” Patty offers wryly.

“You would think, but Erin always puts it in the wrong drawer. I’m beginning to suspect she does it on purpose.” Patty snorts, but can’t argue.

“Holtzy, baby, my compliments to the chef,” Patty says once she’s done with cleanup. Holtz offers a slight bow. “But now that your secret’s out, you gotta stop holdin’ out on me.”

“We could use more Holtzy and Patty time,” Holtz agrees thoughtfully. “Make ya a deal: at least twice a month, I’ll make you dinner, and in return you can bake us up some of those killer muffins or cookies of yours.” Patty can’t stop the grin that spreads across her face - and wouldn’t want to even if she could.

“You have got yourself a deal, Holtzy.”

_______________________________

A few weeks later, Patty’s sitting idly in Holtzmann’s lab, waiting for the engineer to finish something that was apparently quite touchy. Under the terms of their agreement, they’d ended up simply taking turns each week in the kitchen; Patty is currently undecided between blueberry lavender muffins or nutella pumpkin bread, and wants Holtzmann’s opinion before she made up her mind. While she waits, she finds herself studying the hole in her sleeve - a result of an overcrowded subway car and an unfortunate handrail that morning.

“I could fix that, if you wanted.” Patty looks up in surprise, not realizing Holtz was done with her project. Her words sink in a moment later.

“Baby, a blowtorch ain’t gonna fix this.” Holtz grins.

“Don’t knock it till ya try it, Pats. But that was actually only going to be Plan C. I meant I could stitch it up.”

“You can sew? And what’s Plan B?”

“Yes, I can, and B usually involves a live aardvark, so let’s hope it doesn’t get that far.”

“Ok, leaving the aardvark aside, seriously? I never pictured you as a seamstress.”

“The aardvark would be offended to be so easily cast aside. I’m far from a seamstress, but I can patch holes. Learned pretty quick that it was cheaper to repair lab coats than to replace them every week.”

“You barely even wear lab coats.”

“Now, sure. But they were mandatory in college, even though they really just got in the way.”

“Always something with you,” Patty marvels, studying her shirt sleeve again. “Yeah, all right baby, go for it.” Holtz claps delightedly and puts down her blowtorch - and Patty really questions the order of things there - before pulling off her goggles and searching through her drawers. While she’s doing… whatever it is she does, Patty removes her top and stretches it over the table, leaving her in just an undershirt. She briefly considers borrowing a jacket from Holtz, but one glance at the tiny engineer reminds her that it wouldn’t be particularly useful.

“See, this pattern you’ve got going on is super helpful. The stitching won’t stand out like it might on a solid color,” Holtz muses when she finally resurfaces with her sewing kit.

“Great, yeah, that’s exactly what I had in mind when I bought it,” Patty replies. Holtz sticks her tongue out.

“Be nice or I’ll use neon green thread. That’ll stand out.” Smiling, Patty leans in to watch her friend work.

“Nice tight stitches. You coulda been a medical doctor.”

“Ooh, no thanks. Skin is so much harder to hold together neatly.” Patty has to take a slow, deep breath at that.

“Holtzy, baby… are you telling me you’ve put stitches into a person before?”

“Persons. Most often myself, but yeah - who hasn’t?”

“I dunno, most people?”

“Really? You’ve never given someone stitches on the fly?”

“...why would I possibly need to?”

“Any variety of possible reasons. Minor lab incidents, major roller derby incidents, moderate-to-severe squirrel incidents…”

“Every time I get more insight into your life, I’m just that much more baffled.”

“Ahh yeah, you didn’t know I used to do roller derby, did you?”

“Right. That was definitely the most questionable part of that statement.”

“What if I told you the squirrel incident was also a roller derby incident, and that it was the squirrel who needed stitches?”

“At this point, I think I’d just have to accept it at face value.”

“The squirrel made a full recovery. So did the derby girl.”

“I’m sure their families were relieved.”

“You have no idea. They both rejoined the team the week after.” With a dramatic flourish, she finishes her stitching and hands the shirt back to Patty, who inspects it thoroughly.

“Nice work. Now, next time you got a hole in your lab coat, you let Patty fix it up.” At Holtzmann’s surprised expression, Patty offers up a wink.

“You know how to sew?”

“Of course I do. Who do you think you’re dealing with? I was gonna fix it when I got home tonight, but hey - you offered.”

“Patricia Tolan, you devious minx!” Patty laughs loudly as she pulls the shirt back on.

“Now, back to what I actually came up here for. I got two new recipes I wanna try out soon. Which one sounds better for this week?” She slides her phone over as Holtz tucks her sewing kit away. A few minutes later, she’s on her way back downstairs, looking over the ingredients for the nutella pumpkin bread and figuring out what she needs to go buy. As much as she tries to block it out, her brain keeps going back to one question.

How did the squirrel get involved in roller derby in the first place?

_______________________________________

Another week passes; Patty still doesn’t know the answer to the squirrel question, but she’s let it go as one of life’s mysteries. It’s an easy concern to let go of while enjoying butternut squash and spinach lasagna leftovers for lunch, part of Holtzmann’s campaign to bring Patty around to the Way of the Butternut. 

The woman herself drops into the chair next to Patty, eyes scanning the jumbled stack of papers in front of her.

“Whatcha readin’?”

“Documents I requested from the mayor’s office archives about some of the really old local buildings. There’s a lot more Latin than I expected for New York City.” Intrigued, Holtz scoots closer and picks up the nearest page.

“De mortuis nil nisi bonum - that’s fitting for our line of work.” Patty tilts her head slightly, but Holtz doesn’t seem to notice as she keeps poking through the papers. “I would have expected a lot more legal mumbo jumbo for all this Latin,” Holtz notes a few minutes later.

“Holtz.”

“Hmm?”

“You know Latin?” Patty presses.

“Eh, I know enough to get by,” Holtz replies.

“For most people, that definition doesn’t stretch far beyond E pluribus unum, or… I dunno, veni vidi vici.”

“I may have devoted some time to learning it in my youth.”

“Why?”

“My parents insisted I spend at least some brain power on something outside of science and math. History didn’t do it for me - no offense - so a language seemed like a solid idea.”

“And of course you went with a dead language.”

“But, one with practical uses.”

“Sure, if you plan on living in the Vatican City.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a long list of reasons they wouldn’t want me, Pats. C’mon, you know how many things draw from Latin even today. And it’s tied in to a lot of concepts in various science and math classes over the years, so it’s been helpful. Besides, it’s at least more practical than my original choice of language.”

“Let me guess, Egyptian Hieroglyphics?”

“Wouldn’t that be the best? But not so practical there either. I wanted to learn Aramaic. Turns out there aren’t a ton of tutors for that these days. My parents were at least ok with Latin; I think they hoped I’d read some ancient Roman philosophers with it or something.”

“Your parents were ok with it… how old were you, exactly?”

“Hmmm. Probably 15 or 16. I’ve obviously had to brush up on it at times over the years. Probably due for a bit of a refresher now, actually.”

“You decided to learn Latin before you could even drive? Good to know you’ve always been a bit strange, Holtzy,” Patty says affectionately.

“Homo sum humani a me nihil alienum puto,” Holtz replies with a wink, hopping up and heading back to the stairs.

“Holtzy. Translation, maybe?”

“Oh yeah. The one I read from your paper earlier means, basically, don’t speak ill of the dead. The other… nah, you can figure it out. You’re a researcher, Patty! Do your magic!”

“Holtz! I don’t know Latin!” Patty pleads.

“Well yeah, that’s why you gotta research it, doodle bug!”

“Again with the ridiculous nicknames… sure, let me just sound out some ancient dead language to solve a damn riddle from my most ridiculous friend… bet it’s a terrible pun. I bet the Romans loved terrible puns as much as she does,” Patty continues muttering to herself as she tries to figure it out. It’s quicker than she expects; after just a few attempts, she’s got enough of the beginning sorted out for autofill to plug in the rest. She can only laugh as she finally gets her result. Holtz is certainly right on this one.

_I am a human being, so nothing human is strange to me._

_______________________________________

More time passes, as is the nature of time. The team is called to a bust that sounds like it’ll be pretty low-key, and for the most part is. At least until the last ghost - a sneaky little beast who had started out as a heartbreaking puppy before eventually morphing into some sort of hellhound that made the idea of busting it much more palatable to Holtzmann - got a shot in on Abby. It fails in the attempt at locking its jaws around her throat, as it clearly was aiming, but still succeeded in knocking her into a glass display case.

The rest of the team focuses on the beast while Abby simply tries to stay upright. There’s a significant amount of blood on the left side of her overalls, and an equally significant amount of slime on the right. She watches, dazed, as her colleagues finish the fight and spring into action to help her. Holtz runs to get the traps secured and the car moved as close as possible; Patty and Erin assess Abby’s injury and whether or not she needs an ambulance.

“I need a doctor, but Holtz can get me there just as quick. Let’s just load up and go.” Patty and Erin want to argue, but Abby’s having none of it, so off they go.

A few hours later, they’ve dropped Abby off at her apartment, along with Erin, who’s volunteered to keep an eye on her overnight. Holtz and Patty take the car and the gear back, Patty sighing heavily as she sees how much blood is splattered in the backseat.

“That’s gonna take hours. We may need to take it somewhere to get it cleaned professionally.” At that, Holtz frowns.

“You know I don’t like others doing things to this car, Pats.”

“Maybe if you’d stop making every vehicle a nuclear device, it wouldn’t be a problem,” Patty responds.

“Maaaaybe,” Holtz allows. She tells Patty to go ahead and shower first once they’ve gotten everything packed away back at the station. Patty shrugs and doesn’t argue. 

When she’s back downstairs a while later, she finds herself wondering if she should have.

“Holtz? Holtzy, where you at?” It’s abnormal not to find her in her lab, especially right after a bust. She’s not in the kitchen, not on the roof. Finally, Patty has a realization, and heads for the garage.

She’s more than a little surprised to find Holtzmann, still in her full overalls, wrapping up a large trash bag. Most surprising of all - the backseat looks almost as good as new. At the very least, no one would look at it and think someone had bled there for a solid 15 minutes. Patty simply stares for a long moment.

“What… how…?” Holtz offers one of her all-too-serene smiles, and Patty instantly shakes her head.

“On second thought, no. Your life experiences that I’ve learned lately have been interesting, but I just really do not need to find out how it is you know how to get rid of that much blood in just half an hour. I really don’t. Mainly because I don’t know how long the statute of limitations lasts on whatever it is that happened to give you that knowledge.” The serene smile hasn’t wavered at all, and Patty just holds up her hands. “Yep, going to go read something now. Go shower, Holtzy. And seriously… I don’t wanna know this one.”

___________________________________________

Another week has passed; Patty has stayed steadfast in her declaration that she just doesn’t want to know. Holtz hasn’t pushed it. Much.

They’re heading to another call, and Patty is adamantly not looking at the backseat while Holtz does a poor job hiding her grin. It’s just the two of them; Abby’s not cleared to return yet. Erin had been torn between leaving her alone and leaving the rest of the team another woman down, but they’d assured her they could handle it, and they’d back off and call immediately if the situation was worse than the call indicated. She’d reluctantly agreed.

Patty hums as they pull up to their location.

“Cute place. It’s been in the same family for over a century.”

“Prime for a haunting then,” Holtz notes.

“Yeah. Someone’s weekend getaway, gotta have lots of skeletons in the closet.”

“I hope so. Literal ones.”

“Holtzy.” The blonde dons her best innocent expression, and Patty rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Come on.”

Their caller comes out to greet them, looking far calmer than most in his situation.

“Thank you for coming so quickly. There have been stories in the family for years, ghostly visions and mysterious changes to decor, meals being thrown to the floor. My dear mother always swore it was her aunt Beatrice, but I never believed her until now.”

“What happened?” Patty asks.

“I was making a family recipe for cornbread, and… well, she appeared to tell me I was doing it wrong.”

“Whaaat?”

“She spoke to you?” Patty prompts.

“Well, no, but it was clear that’s what’s upsetting her. I changed a few things from the classic, and those are the things that got thrown into the living room while she crossed her arms and glared at me.”

“Tradition is so important,” Holtz remarks dryly.

“Yes, you strike me as quite the traditionalist,” he replies in the same tone. Patty can’t help but laugh.

“Ok, we’ll go visit with great aunt Beatrice. No other surprises we should know about?”

“No, I think that’s quite enough.”

“Just watch for flying cornbread,” Holtz mutters as they go in. It doesn’t take long for them to locate dear aunt Beatrice; she’s still lingering in the kitchen, glaring at the abandoned stove. She turns her glare on the Ghostbusters as they enter, before promptly pointing one enraged, ghostly arm at the mess on the counter.

“So when he says he changed some things, he mostly means he’s cheating by using a boxed recipe to start with,” Patty grumbles. Beatrice throws her hands up, which Patty takes to mean she agrees.

“Never been a fan of cornbread, myself,” Holtz notes. Beatrice glares. Moments later, a stick of butter is flying through the air. Holtz is indignant as it bounces off her shoulder, but Patty laughs. Beatrice apparently doesn’t like that either, as she throws the bag of flour at Patty.

“Seriously?” Patty grouses as she tries to wipe her face.

“Better than ectoplasm,” Holtz offers.

“Don’t go giving her ideas.” Beatrice is apparently tired of not being taken seriously, as she finally begins throwing increasingly larger items at them. The bowls are easy to dodge; the hand mixer, a little more tricky; it’s when a full drawer of utensils just misses her head that Patty decides enough is enough.

“Holtzy, get your trap down. I thought we could discuss this like reasonable grown ass women, but I was clearly wrong.” As if to accentuate this, Beatrice sends a kitchen chair flying. Holtz takes advantage of her distraction to open and activate the trap. They both have proton guns in hand, but as soon as they point them at Beatrice, she gives up and lets the trap suck her in without further resistance.

“That was a weird one.” Patty shakes her head, dislodging more flour.

“Erin’s gonna be bummed she missed the one ghost who wasn’t interested in slime. Why don’t you go talk to poor Bea’s nephew, and I’ll pick up a bit in here?” Patty locates the man, lets him know his problem is resolved, and waits patiently as he writes out a check.

“Don’t worry about the mess - I’ll handle it when I get back tonight. Feel free to clean yourselves up if needed, but I have to be off. Just lock up behind you when you leave.” He shakes her hand briskly before heading to his car. Patty watches him leave, confused, before turning back in to get Holtzmann.

The engineer isn’t in the kitchen, which is partially restored. Patty’s about to call her name when she hears something down the hall. Drawing her gun again, she cautiously makes her way closer. As she does, she identifies it as music.

“Hell nah, better not be some kind of ghost party goin’ down back here…” she mutters. “Or maybe a haunted piano. That’d be crazy enough.”

As she locates and enters the room the music is coming from, she’s surprised to see Holtzmann sitting on the bench, eyes closed, fingers effortlessly drifting over the keys. She’s humming something softly. Patty stands in the doorway, enraptured. She doesn’t realize she’s still holding her weapon and staring until Holtz blinks her eyes open. Her gaze moves down to the gun in Patty’s hands as a slight blush settles. Patty quickly holsters the weapon and steps further into the room.

“Holtzy, that was beautiful,” she says quietly.

“Thanks, Pats. Played as a kid, quit as a rebellious teen. Picked it up again in college, but it’s been a while. I saw it when I was checking the hall, and…” she trails off into a slight shrug, and Patty sees an unusual self-consciousness in her expression.

“Well, I’m glad it was here and that I got to hear you. It was special, baby.” Holtz smiles, her spirit obviously lifted.

“Thank you. It was never my strong suit, but I enjoyed it. It’s relaxing.”

“Ever think about getting one?” Patty asks as they start to head back to the car.

“Maybe someday,” Holtz allows. It’s good enough for Patty. They load up quickly and get on the road again before Patty finally reaches out to squeeze her shoulder.

“Someday, baby. Someday soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> The last bit, of course, inspired by Kate's beautiful performance of Hallelujah on SNL.


End file.
